Love and Adventures in the Far East

Written by M.L., edited by K.A.

*

"We must remember that we're all Soviet citizens," Klavdia Ivanovna was saying, midway though her promenade around the darkened classroom. "Citizenship, like love of the homeland, is in our hearts long before we join the Party or even get our first passport!" Pausing, she fanned herself with her loose-leaf binder, struggling to get any measure of respite from the hot, dry desert air. "As Soviet citizens," she continued, "it is our most sacred duty to defend our homeland's borders. Cynics would have you believe that we, as women, have only a marginal role to play in the defense. False! Our tasks, though different from those of the opposite gender, are no less vital. We must support the fighters at their posts, be it by comforting them with letters and packages, faithfully waiting for them back home, or by lifting their spirits with visits such as this! Pardon me girls."

Completely exhausted by the heat, Klavdia Ivanovna propped her corpulent whole against the teacher's desk, reached for her bag, and extracted from it her prized flower-patterned thermos. Turning her back to the class, she proceeded to drain its contents.

"Aw jeez, just listen to Guard-Dog go on," Anya whispered to Vikki at an opportune moment, "same boring drivel every lecture." Vikki replied with a conspiratorial smile. She was almost used to the fact that Clavdia Ivanovna, terrifying at school and in the first few days of the trip, could now be spoken about irreverently, albeit in hushed tones.

"So Vik, what's with the dopey smile you've had all lecture? Whatcha thinking about?"

"Shh.. I'll tell you after class."

"Now girls," Guard-Dog continued, somewhat recovered, "Our presence here, at Training Base Four of the Far East Military District will certainly lift morale, but you mustn't look at it as simple amusement. What we do, what we WILL do cements our fighters' resolve, ensuring the impregnability of our borders and guaranteeing our nation's sovereignty and our people's happiness!"

Sensing a pause, Vikki looked at Guard-Dog with a dutiful expression and nodded in agreement. Truth be told however, she hadn't heard the part about resolve and sovereignty because she hadn't been listening to the lecture. Instead, her furtive smile, her attention, and in fact most of her afternoon's thoughts, were focused on the wonderful boy she had seen at the station.

For the fifth time in a row, she was running through the details of their brief encounter. Their group had just gotten off the train and were milling about on the dusty platform, shuffling their luggage and squinting in the afternoon sun. Katya was being a primadonna as usual, complaining about the heat and dust. Vikki was just glad to be outside, out of the cramped, stuffy wagon. Her neighbors started talking about boys and goings-on at school again, but Vikki had had enough gossip during the nonstop two-day ride. Instead of joining the pack, she chose to park her suitcase at the edge of the platform and sit on it, her back turned to the gossiping gaggle. That's when she saw him.

The boy was part of a cadet work-detail assigned to unload the freight wagons. He was dressed in camo slacks and a white-and-blue striped sleeveless, like all the rest. However, there was a certain lively bounce in his step and a certain intangible lightness to his movements that set him apart. He was right in the middle of the group, joking, roughhousing with his buddies, totally engaged and for now completely oblivious to Vikki's presence.

The army boys, being sharp and in their element, were quick to notice the new arrivals. As soon as they did, they immediately started over to say hello. That's when a vicious-looking drill sergeant jumped in and barred their way. Stopped in their tracks the boys just stood there, stalling for time and craning their necks to get a better view of their guests. The boy, Vikki's boy, was scanning the crowd absentmindedly when his gaze met Vikki's.

Vikki was stunned – she had never seen such piercingly blue eyes. She could liken them only to the Caspian Sea, which she'd seen as a toddler and which had amazed her with its shimmering, boundless expanse. The laws of boy-girl encounters demanded that she avert her gaze, but Vikki found herself unable to act. The boy seemed similarly stupefied.

A moment passed, and as Vikki continued looking into his eyes she felt something click deep inside her. Suddenly she felt as if they were connected by a sort of wordless, ethereal link. Vikki felt frightened, because she instinctively realized the link was part of something great and ancient, and also because she knew she wouldn't be able to break it even if she tried. At the same time, she felt exhilarated by the unimagined things that were bound to happen next.

Vikki stepped outside herself and reached out to the boy with her mind. As she reached, she felt air rushing against her temples and a tightening in her tummy, as if she were in an open-top racecar that was picking up speed. Her vision narrowed until there was only her, him, and the link between them, the rest of the world having receded beyond its boundaries.

Their exchange had lasted for only a few short seconds when the sergeant yelled, "Get to work you useless trash!" and the boy's head turned around, startled. Severed by the absence of his eyes, the link burst into empty air. Vikki could do nothing except watch him, dumbstruck, as he hurried after the rest of the soldiers.

Under the sergeant's watchful eye, the boys quickly organized themselves into a human chain and started to unload crates. The right end of the chain disappeared into a freight car, the left into a shady warehouse twenty meters away from the platform. Thankfully, Vikki's boy joined the chain in the middle, in full view.

As he worked, every once in a while he'd lift up his eyes to find her. When he did, Vikki would inevitably feel the same rushing sensation she had felt when they first locked eyes. She could only stand to look at him for a moment, then shyness would overwhelm her and she'd bite her lip and look away. When he wasn't looking, she'd devour him with her eyes, noticing everything about him.

He had the build of a gymnast - strong, with firm features but without the unnecessary bulk that made so many army boys seem like oversized gorillas. His hair was of an otherworldly hue, bleached from its auburn shade by the relentless sun and reddened by the fine clay dust that endlessly swirled in the hot desert air. His eyes were piercingly blue, beautiful and terrible to look into. Vikki couldn't hear his voice over the din of station, but his entire manner, his every smile and unheard word was permeated with a deep, lively intelligence. Boys like him didn't belong in dusty out-of-the-way army bases. They didn't even belong in real life. Rather, they belonged in old war movies, galloping around on thoroughbred horses and leading brave bands of partisans behind German lines.

Meanwhile, the other girls had also taken notice of their informal greeting party. They crowded around the platform's edge and were trying to outdo one another in coquettishness, giggling and waving coyly to any boy who happened to look up. Vikki giggled too, for appearance's sake, but didn't wave – she didn't want her boy to think she'd wave at someone else in his presence.

The exchange continued until Guard-Dog, who had until then been preoccupied by arrival-related paperwork, heard the giggling and came over to investigate. Upon seeing this (admittedly-contactless) debauchery, she wasted no time in shushing and subduing the cooing, giggling mass. Driving herself into the fray like a wedge, she separated the girls from temptation. Then, using her enormous paws as pummels, she shepherded them off the platform and toward the administration building for their orientation …

"Victoria Moiseyevna! Did you hear a word I was saying?"

Vikki, listed by the formal, "Victoria Moiseyevna Zaitseva" in all school records, jumped up in surprise.

"You were...saying about friendship and collaboration...for the good of the country?"

"Wrong, Miss Zaitseva. You get a verbal reprimand, and I'll mark you down with an F for the lecture if I catch you daydreaming again."

"Yes ma'am."

Vikki daydreamed again, of course, but she managed to pay enough attention to draw Guard-Dog's wrath away from her until the end of the lecture.

***

After the lecture, there was dinner in a military mess-hall. Military food was as bland as the pastel-colored furnishings, even though it was served by Red Army boys who were extremely eager to please the mess-hall's present patrons. These boys were far from the best however - mostly pudgy commanders' sons and sickly-looking soldier rejects, so the girls concentrated on food and gossip.

"No question about it, I'd pick the drill sergeant," Katya was saying.

The group had been debating the relative merits of the recently-met boys, and Katya was voicing her preferences. While most of the group listened with rapt attention, Vikki had chosen to demonstratively ignore to her arch-enemy. At present moment Katya was dominating the discussion, so Vikki had been passing the time by mentally composing the letter she was going to write to her friends back home.

"Dear girls," it read in her head, "the trip so far has been uneventful. We pass the time mostly sleeping or staring out the window. The train makes stops every few hours, and sometimes Clavdia Ivanovna (we call her Guard-Dog now!) lets us get out and take a walk, but never unescorted. Our company is fine, with the exception of Katya. There are ten girls, all seniors in our class, but except for Anya I don't know anyone that well yet. There are lots of other girls on the train, from other schools, but they're in different compartments and we're not allowed to wander off, so I haven't really talked to them.

Anya is great though - you'll like her as soon as you meet her, she's like a big sister, but in a good way. I've even told her my English name, the one the one from third grade English, so when it's just us talking, she calls me 'Vikki' instead of 'Vika'.

Of the rest of the girls, the most interesting one is Lena. She's a bit strange, sort of tightly-wound, but she's read absolutely everything in the world. You wouldn't believe the things she's told us. Always has a book on theoretical Marxism-Leninism close by – Guard-Dog loves her for it. Then there's Alyona, who's a bit on the heavy side, Olga, who's a bookworm but not as smart as Lena, and Yulia, who usually keeps quiet. Then there's Dasha, Masha, and Sveta, who are in Katya's gang, and who are nothing but trouble. I usually keep away…"

"Vik, wake up." Anya elbowed Vikki gently, interrupting her train of thought. "Applied Citizenship ended half an hour ago – we're discussing Applied Boys now. Come on, join in!"

"I'd date the drill sergeant, definitely," Katya continued, meanwhile. "I mean, did you see the salamander tattooed on his arm? He's strong, really strong. Not like the rest of those greenhorns." Catching Vikki's unwary glance, Katya turned to her. "Hey Vika, you remember that song?" she asked. "The one by Mironov?" Vikki looked away, but Katya, undeterred, leaned close to her and started crooning in her best faux-romantic voice:

"He's the type of man that could pick you up,

Wrap you in his arms,

Protect you from anyone,

Make you feel like the safest girl in the whole world."

"It's true he looked strong," said Anya, pushing Katya's forehead away from Vikki's ear. "But wasn't he a bit overbuilt? And old?"

"Yeah, he was a big stinking ape," added Vikki, sulkily. Katya leered at her.

"Well, pardon me for liking a man with experience under his belt. He's the kind of man that could satisfy, I mean Really satisfy you. Believe me Vika, I know. After all, I'm the only one here who's actually had a boyfriend."

Katya's posse nodded in approval, as if the achievement were their own.

"Yeah, and he left you after two months." Vikki mumbled, turning away.

"I left him, for your information," Katya answered. "And anyway Vika, it's not like you'd know anything about sexual satisfaction. The biggest thing you've had up your cunt is your own finger. Though I imagine that's still generous compared to the dickless wimp you're gonna marry!"

"Come on girls," Anya intervened, "We're all tired, let's not fight tonight." She looked sternly first at Katya, then at Vikki.

Katya shrugged and backed away. Vikki answered Anya's stern look with a guilty glance, and thought that it was great to have the voice of reason by her side, even though Anya didn't take sides when it came to her and Katya's fights. "All right." She said, finally.

"That's better." Anya threw her hand around Vikki and leaned in close. "What about you, Vikki?" she asked in a whisper. "Which boy did you like the most?"

"Oh, I don't know." Confessions always frightened Vikki.

"I think you do, Vik. Remember, I saw you daydreaming in class. There's only one thing that can make you smile like that."

"Well," Vikki took a deep breath, "I kinda liked one of them. The one in the middle of the chain, you know, the one with auburn hair and the blue eyes."

"Hmm, I think I remember. The one who looked like a gymnast, right? Good choice Vik! I thought he was pretty cute myself."

"I didn't," said Katya, who had been feigning disinterest, while listening the entire time. "He was thin as a coat-hanger."

"I think he was lovely," answered Vikki, and started remembering just how lovely the boy was. Katya caught the dreamy expression in her eyes and pounced.

"Wait a second," she said, "seems to me that you more than 'kinda' like him. Seems to me like you've fallen head-over-heels for this weakling."

"Katya, enough." Anya intervened. "Different people have different tastes"

"No hold on Anya, I'm just trying to understand."

Vikki realized she was going to regret her moment of candor. For some strange reason, Katya made a point of viciously criticizing any boy Vikki showed an interest in. It was no different this time.

"So what exactly made you like him so much?" Katya asked.

"None of your business." Vikki answered

"Is it because he looked like an entitled mama's boy?"

"None of your business"

"Is it because he looked dainty, like a woman?"

"He did not."

"Is it because he looked 'noble', like one of those ballet-dancing bourgeois princes?"

"He looked just fine!"

"Is it because the other guys totally dominated him?"

"They didn't!"

"Then it must be because you want to push him around like a wet mop!"

Vikki didn't answer, and Katya shook her head in mock scorn. "Why do you always go for these wimps?" she asked, finally. "Vika, God help you if end up marrying one."

"Well if I do," countered Vikki, "at least I won't have to cover up bruises every morning because every night my husband comes home drunk and beats me!"

Vikki meant to insult, but the vulnerable expression in Katya's eyes told her she'd overdone it this time. There had been rumors that Katya's mother was living with the awful consequences of an impulse marriage to a 'strong' man.

"That won't happen," Katya said, her mocking smile fading. "I won't let that happen to me."

Katya sat down, arms crossed. She threw her hands up, showing everyone that it was no big deal. She looked all around and moved her lips to say it was really no insult at all. Then her forehead pressed against her hand, and her eyes clouded over. The whole table went quiet. Sveta, one of her posse, tentatively placed a hand on her shoulder, but Katya shrugged it off.

Try as she might, Vikki had been able to hurt Katya with words before. She had never even seen Katya vulnerable before – in all their encounters, Katya had been unfailingly sarcastic and self-assured. Now Katya was both vulnerable and hurt, and Vikki was responsible, and it made her feel genuinely awful. This was no way to be. After a moment's hesitation, Vikki reached over and cupped Katya's left hand with both of hers.

"It's ok," she said, "You're a strong girl, I know you won't."

Katya gave her a sad kind of smirk, but to Vikki's surprise, she didn't throw her hands off. Instead, she just looked at them pensively for a few moments.

"You know," she said, finally, "I didn't really mean what I said about your boy. I didn't even get a good look at him, but he was probably okay."

"Thanks." Vikki wasn't sure what she would do next, but Guard-Dog, who had just ambled over from the teacher's table, made the decision for her.

"Now girls," she said, "supper's over in five minutes. I still see some full plates – finish up!"

The girls obediently dispersed to finish their suppers, and Katya withdrew her hand and turned toward her gang.

"Now girls", she said, her tone of voice getting back to its old sarcastic self, "this is what our instructors mean when they talk about Friendship of Peoples. Me and Vika here just had ourselves a nice bonding moment. Learn from our example! But I've had enough of this girly stuff – let's go stake our territory."

The gang got up to deposit their trays on the kitchen conveyor. Vikki watched them go with a relieved smile, thinking that in Katya's case, 'friend' was still too gentle, while 'arch-enemy' no longer fit, and she would have to come up with something more creative.

***

After dinner they were shepherded to their sleeping quarters – a large hangar made of steel girders and corrugated aluminum, with a cement slab for a floor. Each of the groups had its own dormitory – a slice of hangar carved by two plywood separators. As Vikki had expected, the furnishings were both minimal and cheaply made. There wasn't the slightest attempt at decoration, and the bunk beds they were allocated were made of rough wood that promised to give nasty splinters to any careless leaner. At least the sheets looked clean, and the comforters thrown over them looked thick and warm.

Having chosen her bunk, Vikki parked her suitcase and headed to the washroom. She was rather dreading the experience after seeing the rest of the base, but was pleasantly surprised. The bathroom was the one place where their hosts had not economized. The girls were well provided for – there was soap and toilet paper and even a sort of chemical scent, doubtlessly artificial but nonetheless pleasant. Best of all, there were private stalls with thick wooden doors and generously tall marble separators, which began at the floor and reached almost all the way to the ceiling. One such stall at the very end of the row was available, and Vikki wasted no time in claiming it for herself.

Once inside, she breathed a sigh of relief at finally being alone – the structure of the trip left precious little room for privacy. As she often did during her bathroom contemplations, Vikki took mental stock of herself.

She felt overwhelmed and worn by the journey. Her body could still feel the ghostly rocking sensation imparted by the days spent on the train. The afternoon heat, which still clung to the air inside the windowless bathroom, made her mind mellow and lethargic. More than anything else in the world she wanted to skip the evening routine and magically find herself in her bunk, where the air was cool and the comforter over her was warm and heavy, and where she could forget everything and surrender herself to blissful sleep.

Vikki had promised herself during the day to be strong in spirit, taking the evening's allotted personal time to write a letter to her parents and to reflect on both recent and upcoming events. Now in the evening, she found that her tiredness easily overpowered daytime promises, making everything feel distant and unimportant. After all, the letter could wait until tomorrow, and tomorrow would come whether she thought about it or not. The only thing that could stir her in her present state was thoughts of the boy.